Would It Help to Say I'm Sorry?
by patricia51
Summary: Carly didn't realize how angry Shelby was at her during the fight? No "time out" and she didn't duck the next punch and kick. Now Carly is badly hurt; in the hospital and fighting for her life. People will change. Some will really surprise you.


Would It Help to Say I'm Sorry? By patricia51

(What if Carly didn't realize how angry Shelby was at her during the fight? No "time out" and she didn't duck the next punch and kick. Now Carly is badly hurt; in the hospital and fighting for her life. People will change. Some will really surprise you. They did me!)

"Ouch! That HURT! Watch it Shelby!"

Carly stuffed her mouthpiece back in and went back to wind milling her hands in front of her in the best approximation of a fighter that she could adopt. Not catching the look of determination and anger in Shelby's eyes she moved back in towards the other girl.

The roundhouse swing caught her flush on the chin. Her hands dropped and her eyes blanked. Following up her advantage Shelby launched a powerful sweeping kick designed to catch her opponent in the side. But Carly's knees crumpled and she started to fall. The heel of the professional fighter's foot caught the stunned web show hostess on the temple and she crumpled bonelessly to the mat.

"Carly!" screamed Sam, Freddie and Spencer all together. The blonde girl tore open the octagon door and the trio rushed in only to halt as a powerful voice bulled through the uproar of the crowd.

"Don't move her!" A middle-aged man wearing a badge identifying him as someone with CFC slipped past them and fell to his knees beside Carly's unmoving body. He gently touched her, carefully examining her without moving her head or back.

"I'm a doctor. CFC always has one standing by when a member fights, even in an exhibition bout like this," he hurriedly explained to the trio. He turned, put two fingers in his mouth and let out a piercing whistle that even under the circumstances made Sam jealous. A man and a woman wearing jackets marked "EMT" appeared, pushing their way through the crowd with a stretcher.

"Get the backboard under her," directed the doctor. "On my count. One, two THREE."

Once Carly was safely strapped onto the stretcher the EMTs carried her to the arena floor. With the doctor right beside them they quickly pushed the injured girl through the milling crowd. Sam screamed at people who seemed to think nothing of getting in the way so they could take a picture of Carly. Then two burly men, one of whom Sam recognized as Shelby's trainer, forced their way into the lead and began to pretty much throw people from the path that led to a side door and the private ambulance service vehicle parked there.

As the EMTs loaded Carly into the vehicle the doctor turned to them. "You can't all go in here. Which of you is an actual relative?"

"Spencer you're her brother and legal guardian," Freddie said. "You go."

"How will you get home?" asked Spencer.

"We'll get to the hospital somehow," replied Freddie. "Now GO!"

"I take you," interjected Shelby's trainer. "I know the way and I have car. Come."

Sam lingered for a moment. "I don't know. Right now your boss is not my favorite person in the world."

"Something is very wrong. It has to do with video she sees. This is not like Shelby. You come on now." He said in his accented voice.

The ride to the hospital seemed to take forever and yet no time at all. The trainer dropped them off at the front door and Sam and Freddie rushed to the information desk. They found out Carly had been taken to intensive care. When they reached the right floor and wing they found Spencer walking up and down the hallway and ran to him.

"She hasn't regained consciousness. They don't know when she will. Basically she's in a coma. They don't know at this time if her brain is swelling. Apparently Shelby's kick hit her on the temple and caused pressure and possibly bleeding. They just don't know. The Red Cross representative was here once they found out that she's a military dependant and they will try to notify our Father."

A voice called "Spencer Shay?" from down the hall and he left the two of them alone. Freddie collapsed into a handy chair, slinging the pack that contained his laptop he had been using to record the fight and setting it beside him. Sam took over the pacing.

It may have been five minutes or it may have been five hours, Freddie had no idea, when suddenly the muted quiet of the hallway was broken by Sam's voice. An angry Sam's voice. In fact an enraged Sam's voice.

"You! I'll rip your head off." she screamed.

Freddie bounded to his feet as Sam flew by him in her famous headlong charge. And on the receiving end of that charge was Shelby Marx, clad in jeans, a pullover top and black shoes. She lifted her hands in defense.

"Sam please. Don't. I don't want to hurt you."

Sam never slowed, Shelby dodged sideways at the last moment and the angry blonde flew by without touching her. Waving her arms wildly in a fashion that would have made Freddie laugh had the situation not been so serious Sam finally slowed and turned. From the expression on her face it was obvious she was about to make another try.

Sam had never been so angry in her life. Never had she wanted to really hurt someone. And she knew she looked it. Professional fighter or not Shelby recoiled from the look she knew was in her eyes. That made it even more surprising when Freddie stepped between the two of them.

"Sam! Enough! This is a hospital and Carly is in there and she might be fighting for her life right now." Sam was pleased to see Shelby's face pale even as Freddie went on. "Now we are going to sit down and be calm, whether we want to be or not." He turned towards the teen professional fighter. "God knows I don't want to be calm either but someone has to be and I guess I'm elected by default."

Sam stared at Freddie like she had never seen him before. Finally she shrugged and walked over to the chairs they had been sitting in earlier.

Heads had popped out of doors up and down the hallway after Sam's outburst. Freddie picked up his back pack and motioned to both girls. "This is a little open and we might get to yelling again. Let's go find some place a little more private and talk." He looked around, finally finding a small room that apparently served as the chapel for that floor. It was vacant and he waved the girls in, carefully seating them at opposite ends of the room. He turned to Shelby.

"Okay Shelby, what happened? I thought you had promised to go easy on Carly."

"And I thought that you, she, promised that what happened to my grandmother was an accident."

"It was," replied Sam.

"Don't lie. I had someone come to my gym and show me a video where you and Carly planned to knock her down at the press conference."

"There couldn't have been any such video because that discussion never happened," answered a now more puzzled than angry Sam. Freddie nodded, having sat next to Carly during the press conference. A thought struck him.

"Who brought this video?"

Shelby shrugged. "I don't know. About our age, this tall," she held her hand up to show the height," round head, polite but super creepy."

Freddie and Sam exchanged glances. "Nevel," they said at the same time.

"Who's Nevel?"

"Wait," Freddie reached in his backpack and pulled out his laptop. He powered it up as he went on. "I was recording the fight and I'm sure I caught a picture of him. He was in the front row and... Here he is." He turned the screen towards Shelby. "Is this the person brought you the video?"

It took not even seconds for Shelby to nod and say "Yes. Who is he and why would he do something like that?"

Freddie and a still very upset Sam proceeded to fill in the young champion on just who Nevel Papperman was, how the feud had started and how it had apparently got completely out of hand.

"I knew something was wrong when he was sitting there smirking and saying how he had come to see Carly cry," muttered Sam, her anger starting to shift to a more familiar target.

Shelby laced her fingers and looked in concentration at the screen. "I want to believe you Freddie, except of course that it will prove I'm an idiot, but the video looked and sounded so real."

Freddie nodded. "Nevel is slick." A thought came to him and he pushed the laptop to Shelby. "Here. Take this and search for a clip of the news conference. I want you to do it so there won't be any question in your mind that I'm directing you towards something that I created."

The dark-haired teen nodded and her fingers flew across the keyboard. In only a couple of minutes she had found a website displaying the entire conference. Freddie coached her in narrowing the picture to Carly and Sam and then filtering out the voices of her manager and the reporters.

"Oh God," whispered Shelby as she confirmed what Sam and Carly had been saying. "I'm not a champ I'm a chump. He played me. Sam?" She looked at the blonde. "I'll stand still if you want to take another shot at me."

While Sam seemed to think that it might still be a good idea Freddie waved it away. "Don't be ridiculous. You're not at fault Shelby, You love your grandmother and the idea that someone set out to deliberately hurt her would enrage a saint. And we were at fault too. We never should have started that 'trash talk' crap."

"That was my fault," admitted Sam. "I'm sorry."

"Yes but it still is my fault," responded Shelby. "No matter how angry I was with Carly I should have kept in my mind that Carly is not a professional fighter and that she couldn't defend herself properly. And," she hesitated and the plowed on," it's awful to say but when I thought she had not only planned to knock my grandmother down but lied about it I really wanted to make her pay. But not like this!"

"Plenty of blame to go around," declared Freddie. "What counts now is Carly. Even Nevel is a side issue right now. Speaking of Carly, we better check on her."

Sam nodded and rose. Shelby followed but looked uncertain.

"What is it?' asked Freddie.

"When my Grandmother was being operated on I spent a lot of time in a room like this. Would you two object if I suggested we stop and say a prayer for Carly?"

"I think that's a wonderful idea," replied Sam. The trio held hands and bowed their heads while Shelby softly said a few heart felt words asking for Carly's recovery.

"Amen," she concluded.

"Amen," echoed the other two.

When they went out in the hallway they found Spencer who had resumed his pacing. He lifted an eyebrow at the sight of Shelby and the way the trio seemed to have made up but ignored that for now.

"X-rays don't seem to show any actual damage to Carly's skull. No broken of shattered bones, no depressed injuries. The doctors feel that it was the shock of the blow and that eventually she'll come out of it. That's the good news. The bad news is that they can't say when that might be. It might be in just a few minutes or it might be days. And to top it off the Red Cross hasn't been able to get hold of our Dad. She's in there," he indicated a door.

The party tiptoed in to the Intensive care facility and then to Carly's room. Sam gasped at the sight of her best friend, bandages around her head and monitors hooked up all over her quiet body. Shelby looked as though she was about to cry. Freddie, trying to demonstrate a calm that he didn't feel, touched each girl on the shoulder and squeezed gently. They stood there for a while and then, without words, the foursome moved back into the hallway.

Freddie took in the disheveled condition of Carly's brother. "Spencer you look awful. You need to get some rest."

The older man waved Freddie's suggestion away. "I need to stay here and talk to her. They say it would help if Carly hears familiar voices."

"Voices as in plural?"

"Well, yeah, I guess that's what they said."

"Then we'll take turns."

While Spencer, Sam and Freddie sorted things out Shelby had stepped away and had been speaking urgently on her cell phone. She snapped it closed and came back.

"Spencer, Freddie is right. You need to rest. I just spoke to my manager. He's waiting downstairs along with my trainer. By the time Juan gets up here to escort you Rod will have arranged a suite in the hotel across the street. That way you'll be close whenever she wakes up and you won't look worse than her and scare her to death. There'll be security to keep the reporters away and room service." She turned to the other teens. "Plenty of room for when you get tired too."

"Okay," nodded Freddie. "Shifts of four hours each?"

"I'll take the first one," was Sam's reply.

"Can I be included too?" Shelby asked almost timidly.

Sam never thought she would do this but she looked to Freddie for guidance. All of a sudden Carly's crisis seemed to have matured him and made him a decision maker. He thought for a moment.

"Of course you can Shelby but it needs to be with one of us so that when she wakes up there will be someone there to reassure her that it's all right." Seeing the relief on the teen fighter's face he added "Why don't you help me get Spencer settled in at the hotel? Then we can go to Spencer and Carly's apartment and get some things they'll need; maybe swing by the store and pick up a toothbrush for Sam?"

"Who's going to pay for the hotel room and all?" asked Sam.

"I am," Shelby said firmly. "Don't worry, I can afford it. Even with the percentage that goes to Rod, the cost of my gym and the salaries for Juan and everyone, not to mention the percentage that automatically goes into a trust fund that only I can touch and only when I'm twenty-one I have a fair allowance and I can't think of anything better to spend it on right now."

Juan arrived. "We are ready to go Shelby. I will escort you and your friends to the hotel." He looked towards the Intensive Care unit. "Is there any word?"

"Nothing new."

"Jesuchristo." Juan crossed himself and then led the small party towards an elevator as Sam took a deep breath and pushed open the door to return to Intensive Care.

While the remainder of Carly's friends were heading to the hotel Nevel Papperman was happily cooing to his pet porcupine while he fed it a carrot stick. It had been a great evening. Granted the fight hadn't lasted very long and Shelby hadn't landed near the number of punches he had hoped but they had carried that snotty Carly from the ring and that counted for a lot. He had finally got some pay back for all the wrongs the iCarly crew had inflicted on him; from the first refusal of Carly to give him a kiss to the numerous times they had thwarted his brilliant plans for payback.

He leaned back in his chair and his fingers began to dance over his computer. He needed to make a special broadcast of Nevelocity. He copied the fight sequence from the CFC site, turned on his camera and began to record.

"Carly Shay showed up tonight to fight Shelby Marx. She might as well have stayed home. Her clumsy efforts at martial arts," he started the tape, letting it run in split screen while he continued his talk, "at least deserved this unfortunately too swift drubbing that she received at the hands of Shelby Marx. But fight fans and those who wince at the abysmal quality of the so-called shows on iCarly can take comfort in the justice of her being carried away in a stretcher."

Nevel continued his rant for a couple more minutes. Satisfied, he posted the results, then yawned and stretched. It had been a long, but good day and he headed out of his computer room to get some well-deserved sleep. He ended up sleeping late in the morning and then being dragged away by his Mother to go visit relatives for several days before he could log on and check the response to his editorial.

The quartet of watchers mounted their vigil on Carly. The rotating shifts tended to overlap quite a bit as one or the other of them would find themselves unable to sleep or relax and drift back to the hospital room. Doctor Janeway, the neurologist in charge had contacted the school and got Sam and Freddie excused from class. So the room usually had two people in it and sometimes three. They did begin to settle down though; the emotional storm could only be kept to a fever pitch for so long.

The Red Cross continued to be unable to contact the elder Shay. Hints from the Department of Defense made it appear the submarine that he was on was operating on a secret mission and that until it was completed he could not be brought back to the States.

Sometimes tiredness overcame Carly's friends, even in the middle of their striving to talk to her. Sam once woke up to a low buzz of words that seemed to repeat. Opening one eye she saw Shelby and her trainer Juan kneeling by Carly's bedside. A string of beads were wrapped around each one's tight hand. Sam realized that the two of them were praying, in fact reciting the Rosary. As she listened they apparently finished. Juan left and Shelby climbed stiffly into the other chair.

"I didn't realize you were Catholic."

"I'm not, well, not really. I was raised Episcopalian but when my parents died I quit going to church. But when Grandmother was in the hospital Juan started praying for her and after a while I joined in. Now it seems second nature."

Shelby paused for a moment. "That's why I reacted like I did Sam. My Grandmother; she's all I have. The idea someone would deliberately hurt her made me wild. And stupid."

"Not as stupid as I can be," Sam admitted. "That trash talk was all my idea. And I was rude to your grandmother. No wonder you believed Nevel's video."

It turned out that Shelby was to surprise Sam again. Late one night when Sam came by, yawning and scratching, her eyes nearly popped out. Shelby was slumped on the small excuse for a couch with her head pillowed on Freddie's shoulder, who was also sound asleep.

The creak of the door had waked Shelby but not Freddie. The CFC champion had waved at Sam and got up, careful not to disturb Freddie.

"Hey."

"Anything new?" Sam went to the important question first as she looked at Carly, even though she was dying to tackle another subject.

"She seemed a bit restless. We called the nurse and she made a notation to talk to the doctor this morning. She said that it's not uncommon for coma patients to move about a little but this is the first time Carly has and it's a good sign."

Sam sighed, and then brightened. "Now, about that position I just found you in?"

"I guess we fell asleep."

"With Freddie? I thought you believed he was a bit too weird."

"You have to admit that incident with the raisin toast was NOT a good way to start things off."

"Hey you don't have to convince me about Freddie."

Shelby smiled. "I guess not. Anyway, maybe I've changed a bit and maybe he's changed a lot. I wish this whole thing had never happened but someone had to step up and keep everything under control and he's done it. After all, can you imagine the Freddie of just a few days ago getting between you and I?"

"No I can't," admitted Sam.

As the vigil continued Nevel returned home from the trip to his relatives. As soon as he could he rushed into his sanctum and fired up his computer array; then sat back as he saw the flood of message he had received on his latest posting about Carly and Shelby Marx. He savored the moment and then opened the first message.

And hurriedly deleted it. That was AWFUL. Why would anyone say names like that? He clicked the next one only to discover the language was even worse.

Quickly Nevel scanned the list and picked out the name of, well not a friend but someone who seemed to see life the same way he did. Come to think of it, the chubby young man frowned; he really didn't have any friends. Why was that? Oh well. He centered the cursor on the correct line, clicked and read.

"Nevel, what, if anything were you thinking?" The message started. That wasn't good. He read on. "I've checked a couple of boards and the consensus seems to be that you should be tarred and feathered at the very least. How could you post that video, making fun of what happened? I know you don't particularly like Carly Shay but to make fun of her like that with her in the hospital in a coma is just too much." The email went on but by now Nevel wasn't reading it.

Carly in the hospital? In a coma? Oh no this wasn't happening. He collected himself and ran a search and found several articles that showed that it was indeed happening. He read on to find that Carly's friends, including the famous Shelby Marx who had inadvertently struck the web show girl too hard and in the wrong spot, were keeping watch over her.

He sat back, his mind a whirl. Okay, this was bad. But it wasn't his fault. He didn't know Carly had been hurt like that. How could he? And it was Shelby who put her there. He didn't. All he did was make up a video that purported to show that Carly and Sam had deliberately planned to tackle Shelby's grandmother. Was it his fault that the CFC champion took it so seriously? Of course it wasn't. It wasn't. It wasn't.

It was. It was his fault. How had he let things get so out of control? All he had wanted way back when was a kiss from Carly. Why couldn't he have just accepted her answer? No, he had to win and he just kept escalating the stakes. How had he reached the point that he wanted to see Carly get hurt, physically hurt? He had gone there to enjoy it. He had even told Carly and the others he was there to see her bleed and cry.

Nevel Papperman was spoiled and self-centered. He had been over-indulged by a fussy protective mother. Unlike Freddie, who was in a similar situation in many ways Nevel had not rebelled but had twisted that indulgence to his own uses. Now for the first time in his life he had to take a good look at who he was and he didn't like what he saw.

He started to push his chair back and then stopped. First things first. He turned on his video camera and began to record. Once he was satisfied with the result he posted what he had and turned off his equipment. Grabbing a jacket he left the room, calling to his Mother that he had to go out because of an emergency. He ignored the questions screeched behind him. He might pay for that later. Right now he didn't care.

Within thirty minutes he was at the hospital his search had found Carly had been taken. He walked through the lobby to a waiting elevator and pressed the button that would take him to the correct floor. He looked at the chart on the wall after he left the elevator and compared it to the notes he had written. Down the hall and to the left.

He pushed through the swinging door into Intensive Care. He came to an abrupt halt. From the door that he knew led to Carly's room he heard voice. Freddie of course and he shivered as Sam chimed in to whatever the conversation was about. He was scared of Sam. Then there was the amazingly soft voice of Shelby and he REALLY got scared. He closed his eyes to visions of the two girls tearing him limb from limb. He opened them and turned around to flee.

Nevel took a deep breath and turned back around. For the first time in his life he was going to accept whatever came his way because of his actions. He walked to the open door. Freddie and Shelby were sitting on a small couch while Sam paced the room. Taking yet another deep breath and lifting his head he tapped on the door.

"May I come in?"

Sam turned towards him and he nearly lost his nerve as he saw her eyes open wide. He heard feet hit the floor and he knew that Shelby and Freddie had risen. With Shelby being here it was obvious that by now everyone knew about his set-up plot. He tried to close his eyes again so he wouldn't see what was coming to him but he couldn't. Instead he met Sam's angry gaze with a calm he never knew he could possess.

Surprisingly she didn't rip his head off. She just glared at him. A no sweeping kick came up under his chin to stretch him out on the floor as had happened to Carly. Part of him was very grateful even as the rest of him wondered why he wasn't bleeding. Then he noticed both girls were looking at Freddie, who was stepping forward.

"Nevel, why are you here?"

"Because I caused this and somehow I want to try to make it right."

"You're admitting that you faked Carly and Sam plotting to push Shelby's grandmother?"

"I did."

"Why?"

"Oh dear, that's the hard question isn't it? Because the answer for that is simple but it's taken me a while to figure out the reason behind it." Nevel pondered. "I faked the video because I wanted Shelby to get mad with Carly and maybe punch her a time or two." He turned toward the teen champion. "I egged you on but until I looked it up this morning I had not realized that your grandmother is your only living relative. If I had maybe I wouldn't have been so stupid."

"But why would you want me to hurt Carly?" asked Shelby

"For one of the biggest downfalls for any person. Pride. Way back when this feud started I thought that my show 'Nevelocity' was so meaningful, that a good comment from me was so important, that I was actually justified in asking for a kiss from Carly to give 'iCarly' a good review. And then things snowballed from there. Each time I tried something to get Carly and you guys you figured out a way to turn the tables on me. I got obsessed with somehow beating you. And I let it get carried away."

"So, what are you doing here Nevel?" came the question from Freddie.

"I can't take back what happened no matter how much I wish I could. I've posted an apology on my website and that's the last thing that will ever go there. All I can do now is confess what I did; tell you three, Spencer and Carly too how sorry I am and take whatever you want to dish out to me. I deserve it."

Sam, Shelby and Freddie all three looked to be deciding just exactly what they thought Nevel deserved when a different voice shocked their attention away from him.

"I'm glad you're sorry Nevel."

Four heads turned towards the bed and the pair of open, smiling eyes looking at them.

"My head hurts." Carly said softly and plaintively.

The scramble was on. Shelby ran for a doctor, Sam for a nurse and Freddie dropped to his knees beside the bed. Nevel stood there in shock as the girl on the bed waved him over with one feeble hand. He shook himself out of his surprise and went to her. She patted the bed beside her with one hand even as the other gripped Freddie's clasped fingers. He gingerly perched on the edge of the mattress as Carly's eyes looked into his and seemed to search there.

Then she smiled. "I heard what you said. I'm glad you're here."

"Really?" Nevel thought of himself as quick-witted and fast talking but Carly's words almost made him speechless. And they made him warm. He suddenly thought of himself as the Grinch and wondered if his heart had grown.

What Nevel didn't realize until much later is that he had no friends, never had HAD any friends and that there was no one who just accepted him. The simple words from Carly did things to him.

"If," and he froze again. "You really are sorry."

"I am," he replied honestly. "Nothing like this will ever happen again."

"Good."

The conversation might have gone on but the room flooded with people. Nevel stepped off to one side and watched. A firm grip on his arm turned him to face Freddie.

"Carly has the biggest and kindest heart of any one I have ever known," the other young man said. "If she forgives you, and she just did, then we will too."

"But," added Sam, "If you ever betray that forgiveness I WILL rip your head off and stuff it somewhere the sun doesn't shine."

"And then I'll get mad and do something even more painful," promised Shelby.

"Well I don't want either of those things to happen," said Nevel, not quite keeping from shuddering as his vivid imagination ran through half a dozen scenarios very quickly.

"Good," said Freddie.

"I don't want to interrupt," said Carly, "But could some attention be paid to me?"

A lot of attention was paid to Carly by her friends and then again after Spencer arrived. More was paid in a few days when she was released to go home, when she got home and when her Dad finally flew in.

That might be the end of the story. But there was a bit more. A few days after everything settled down a knock on the door and a cheerful "Come in!" produced Nevel with a big bunch of flowers.

"Hi," he said a bit shyly. "How are you feeling?"

"Mamma's great," replied Sam as she breezed past Carly and took the flowers. "Thanks Nevel." With that the blonde girl vanished, taking the flowers with her. Carly burst out laughing at the expression on Nevel's face.

"But those were for you!" Nevel exclaimed.

"And Sam knew it" reassured Carly, still chuckling. "She's just messing with you. It's what she does with all our friends."

Nevel was still getting used to the idea of having friends and the antics they performed. He just shook his head in amazement, making Carly laugh all the more.

Freddie entered the room, pushing Sam before him, who was still holding the flowers. "Here," she said with a straight face to Carly, "These are for you." The foursome all laughed and sat down. The three regulars began to discuss the next iCarly show and Nevel happily found that they included him in the conversation. They were still talking when there was a knock on the door which was immediately followed by Shelby entering.

"Hi everyone!" the CFC champion said.

"Hi Shelby," was the general reply.

"Whatcha doing over here?" Sam asked.

"I came over to pick up Freddie."

"Huh?" said Carly

"Huh?" added Nevel.

"HUHHHHHHHH?" exclaimed Sam.

The trio looked at Freddie, noticing for the first time how nicely dressed he was.

"We're going on a date," explained the martial artist.

"Let me grab my jacket."

As soon as Freddie had left the room Sam opened a barrage of questions. "I thought you said he was creepy? A potential stalker?"

Shelby shrugged. "People change. He's not the same guy who ate the raisins off the toast anymore. He's grown up a lot."

Carly looked at the others in the room. "Maybe we all have."

Nods were exchanged. Freddie came back into the room and he and Shelby left. Carly noticed something as the door closed but refrained from saying anything. Instead she waited to see if Sam had noticed that the departing pair had left hand in hand.

Sam didn't comment. Instead she eyes Nevel speculatively. "S'up Nevel? Pull up a chair." Her expression brightened. "Hey, do you know how to play poker?"

"No," Nevel admitted.

"Got any money?" Sam produced a deck of cards and began to deal them.

"Not with me," Nevel hedged.

"That's okay. You can owe me."

(The End)

(Okay, I have to admit it. I was surprised by how Nevel ended up acting in this story. I don't care much for the prissy little shit but any writer can tell you that sometimes characters tell you how they want to be written and not the other way around. However if you are in the mood to see him get his just deserts I'm writing a sequel to "iKissed Shelby Marx" where the little peeping tom would-be blackmailer is definitely going to get what he deserves. Also I think a crisis sometimes makes people crumble and sometimes it makes someone rise above themselves and I can see it happening to Freddie. Anyway, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.)


End file.
